Love, Life Lessons, and Witty Banter
by Loriot
Summary: Mostly J/C based shorts to be updated as inspiration strikes. Drabble No. 11; Obsession: "I love you and your crazy ways."
1. Embrace

Loriot: I've decided to create an on going place to post any random drabbles which come to me. I believe they will mainly be J/C based, though there is a possibility that I could come up with some S/L ones, or maybe even other couples -gasp!- such as, the married, but cute Hugh and Judy. :D

**_Pre-Reading Notes:_**My first drabble is future set and very short. Due to the fact that I use only pronouns pretty much means you can apply this senario to any couple. Its in italics for a 'dreamy' feel, one I'd hoped to convey. I hope you enjoy it despite of its length.

Blanket Disclaimer:These works are purely fan based. If I owned anything like JN, I could pay my way through college without debt.

**Embrace**

_They were curled up together on the couch. Their couch, actually, the first one they had bought together, large and squishy. It was perfect to lounge on. She was leaning against the armrest, slouched down slightly. Her long golden hair tumbled over one shoulder, the color contrasting the green fabric of the sofa. Her fingers slowly, lovingly, sifted through his soft hair, the wedding band on her ring finger glinting brightly in the setting sun. His hair was slightly damp, with the scent of her shampoo (He refused to buy his own these days. Saving money, he said, for more important things). Her eyes were closed contently, lips tucked into a small smile. He was half asleep after a long day's work, curled up tiredly, his head resting on her chest, listening to her rhythmic heartbeat. One arm was wrapped around her waist, supporting her back, the other partially resting on her gently rounded stomach, his fingers laced with hers, as if including their child in their embrace. She dropped her head slightly so she could gently kiss his damp hair. He blinked open his eyes and looked up at her, smiling. He murmured something softly and kissed her reverently on the lips before nuzzling closer and closing his eyes once more._


	2. Fair

_Loriot: I initially had something else planned, but it grew too long to be considered a true 'short.' If things go well, I might post that as well tonight. Keep an eye out. I hope you enjoy this one; it's a bit more 'angsty' (I think) than what I'd normally write, but I like how it turned out. :D I like italics for emphasis in stories._

**Fair**

"All is fair in love and war."

At least this is what my mother had told me. Even, on occasion, she used it as an excuse.

All is fair.

Is that why people can act so petty? Is that why sex can be used as both a tool and as an act of intimacy? Is that why the husband and wife down the street have been married fifty years despite arguments and hard times? Is that why my mother could _justify_ cheating on my father?

Is that why I lost him to another girl?

Slamming my locker shut, I hefted my book bag over my shoulder. It was the end of the school day. It had come too soon for my liking. It meant I had more time alone with my thoughts. It meant I had to walk home alone, behind them, willingly unnoticed lest I be pulled into their conversation.

They walked by me, hand-in-hand. Jimmy was oblivious to me, whether consciously or not, he was oblivious. A surge of jealously consumed me. I closed my eyes, leaning against my locker, weak.

It would be so easy to hurt them. To break them. So easy. The high school grape vine could work wonders. A rumor, _any_ rumor, would spread like wild fire. Maybe she was cheating, had an STD, was pregnant.

Or, D, all of the above.

It would be so easy. She would go down flaming.

They would be over.

It would be so _easy_.

But I can't.

Why not? If all is fair in love and war, why the hell not?

Well –

A feminine laugh shocked me from my thoughts. Opening my eyes, they were loitering across from me, blatantly breaking the school's no PDA rule. Standing close together, his hands a little too low on her back. He was smiling. _Genuinely_ smiling. He looked so _happy_. I sighed.

That's why.

And it was tearing me up inside.


	3. Favorite

_Loriot: I really need to start moving away from 'future' stuff . . . I dunno, I've just been in a romantic mood I suppose. –laughs sheepishly – Loriot needs a boyfriend, I suppose. I am not sure if I like this one. It sounds off, but then my head is stuffy at this point in time, so who knows? Cindy uses big words, oh my._

**Favorite**

Jimmy's seemingly limitless inventions never fail to amaze (or anger, depending on the outcome) those around him, including myself. They can shrink things, enlarge things, create portals, fly, and enable you to breathe underwater, or even turn things into cheese. It's also been said that he can create gemstones – real ones! Diamonds, rubies, amethysts – you name it, he can make it. His mother, Judy, likes laugh at the memory of a poorly attempted bribe, consisting of diamond earrings, for permission to attend the opening night of Retroland.

As Jimmy's girlfriend, fiancé, wife, and mother of his children, he's given me more than my fair share of gem stones. Most were set in jewelry -- rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and even an anklet or two. Each gem he's given me has its own story.

For example, my engagement ring. It was made from a piece of coal Jimmy found soon after a cookout and bonfire we had with our friends one night, just after graduating from college. It was the night, he says, that he decided he would propose to me. Everyone was striking out on their own, starting their future whether it was a job, a marriage, a family. The next evening Jimmy proposed saying he wanted to share his future with me, no matter where that would take us. Nearly fifteen years later, the story still makes me tear up a bit. He's never deviated from his word, sticking by me through sickness, health, and a couple very hormonal pregnancies.

Though, despite all the gems he's lavished, so to speak, upon me over the years, there is one that surpasses them all in my eyes. The diamond, opals, garnets, sapphires (the latter three which are our children's birthstones) – none can compete with the one that I always wear around my neck. It was not created, but found, given shyly, hopefully one day when we were ten –

A pearl.


	4. Sense

_Loriot: I seem to like these thoughtful shorts, don't I? I should try to branch out, I suppose. It's a different pairing this time -- Sheen and Libby need love, too! Libby's views on female dress are my own. I could rant for quite sometime on the topic, but I doubt you'd want to hear it now ... on to the story: _

**Sense**

Third period government was, ironically, my most laid back class. Despite the heated debates my classmates were involved in on a regular basis, it was all very mellow. This was due to the fact that Anderson had made it clear in the beginning of the year that he would tolerate no disrespectful words, feelings, or vibes in his classroom. And when Mr. Anderson says no, it really means _no_. If you cross the line, boy, you'd not live to tell the tale.

I usually participated in the discussions -- an easy grade booster, and, what can I say? I love to talk. Not as much as Cindy, but my mouth can run as fast as hers can, believe it or not.

Not today though. Today I felt sleepy, pensive, calm -- despite all the thoughts doing cartwheels in my mind. I'd been sitting quietly in my seat. No objections from Anderson, as Arnie and Lillian were debating something, which meant it was likely we'd get through class without switching debators. Those two could go at it like Cindy and Jimmy! It was a bit scary in some respects, though at least Arnie lacked the capability to blow anything up while in class. They were less hazardous to your health, that was sure.

I was only half listening. Slouched down in my desk, I'd arms crossed, staring into space.

_Men_, I'd decided were very visual creatures, whereas women were more prone to being tactile.

For example: cars. I'll never understand the fascination, but guys -- at least all the ones I know -- love cars. The flashier (and faster), the better. I, on the other hand, would be more focused on such features as comfort, gas mileage, or even the number of cup holders the car possessed. A sunroof would be nice – I'd have to remember to discuss that with Cindy as we both were in the market, so to speak. Maybe a navigation system for my directionally challenged self?

A kickass sound system went without saying.

Back on topic, it is quite obvious that men are visual, if given a bit of consideration. Women who dress like – ahem – whores always get male attention. Between their visual take on the world and a nasty mix of some uncontrollable hormones, guys have no chance. And it sure as hell doesn't make it easier on the rest of us – women who actually respect themselves enough to wear clothing in public that's not see-through or skimpy.

Dating Sheen the past year or so really put this in perspective. Though I am grateful he loves me for who I am, finding me attractive whether I'm wearing a prom dress or an oversized t-shirt, you can definitely tell what sort of clothing (or equivalent) will attract his attention the most. He always notices when I wear jewelry, particularly big earrings or necklaces when worn with v-necked tops (cleavage optional). 'Course that boy's always been slightly drawn to shiny things.

Ok, maybe more than slightly.

My favorite reaction that I've gotten out of him so far is the night he'd come over when I didn't expect him to visit. Thinking I'd spend the evening alone, I'd pulled on a pair of sweat pants and an old, oversized Ultra Lord shirt Sheen had given to me when he'd outgrown it. I was watching a movie when the doorbell chimed. Sheen was standing there when I opened the door. His eyes got wide, wider than usual (yes, that is possible), his cheeks flushed an unmanly shade of pink, and he checked me out, making it quite apparent he liked what he saw . . .

"_Libby, babe, you've got the most bodacious curves a girl's ever had, and that shirt sure as hell looks better on you than it ever did on me."_

Even the extensive effort I put into my makeup and outfit for my cousin's wedding did not compare to that. To be quite honest, that fact makes me so happy that there no word grand enough to express such a feeling. He certainly knows how to make a girl feel good about herself.

When it comes to what I find attractive about Sheen, I rely on other senses. It's not that I don't find him cute – I really do, but there are the little things, the special things, that make me feel closer to him . . . The way his arms feel around me, the way he kisses me –_ so sweetly, like I am a goddess to be honored, treated with reverence_. The way his cologne smells, the way my hand fits in his –_ small and petite against broad and strong_. His smooth skin, his laugh – _deepened into a nice tenor sound since he'd hit high school._ The rhythm of his heartbeat when we curl up together, the way that he plays with my hair – _usually without realizing until someone calls him out on it. _

Though men get by on visual attraction, I wouldn't give up such a tactile sense for the world.


	5. Thanks

_Loriot: This is just some serious speculation on my part. Partially based on the feelings/beliefs of a real person, but I put a more extreme twist on it. If you don't like Betty, sorry, but I felt she deserved something from me. Whether or not she's the girl in the second portion of these shorts is up to you. That was left open to interpretation. Anyway, it's a bit sad, and I'm not sure if the note at the end is OOC, but I felt she would have matured as she grew older. I hope you enjoy! :)_

Thanks

Betty Quinlin sighed softly, swirling what was left of her surgary black tea around in its mug. She was sitting at her kitchen table in her small home on a Saturday afternoon. Her long chocolate hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail; she was still wearing her pajamas from the previous night. Sitting on the table in front of her was a letter addressed to her. The script was curling and formal, the paper was heavy, of good quality. The return address read "Vortex."

She was afraid to open it.

Vortex was usually associated with Neutron.

And she didn't want to think about Neutron.

He was simply another in a long line of failed (potential) relationships. Middle school, high school, college. She could name each boy, each teenager, each man that she could have had, kept for her own. Surely it would have been easy. After all she was, in all modesty, a beautiful woman. Dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin – the boys were always lovestruck by her.

_Especially_ after she had hit puberty.

Betty knew she was a nice girl. Always sweet, always kind. A listener, a friend, a pretty face, never the wall flower.

But . . .she was considered cold, heartless, _manipulative_ as well. At least by men.

She'd never dated. Not seriously at least.

There was a flaw in her nature. A simple one. One that no one ever noticed, excluding herself. It had taken her years to realize it as it was not something that was consciously done. She pushed everyone away, everyone that she could have possibly truly cared for, the men she could have fallen hard for.

Her heart _ached_ just thinking about it.

Deep down she always knew she was afraid of being hurt, scorned, turned away, and rejected. She had seen too many failed relationship at school, seen her older sisters depressed for weeks on end when they'd ended relationships, seen her parents' fights which eventually ended in a divorce. She wanted to protect herself, protect her heart from feeling such pain.

It was a defense mechanism that had crippled any chance she truly had at a loving relationship.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had liked Jimmy Neutron during their school years together, perhaps a little too much for her comfort. Betty had ended up telling the jealous blonde girl she could have him. Partially because she knew Jimmy meant more to the blonde than he would ever mean to her, but mainly because she didn't want to become so attached herself. She had watched them during middle school, high school. The last time she had seen them was graduation. They looked so happy together. And the way that Jimmy _looked_ at her?

She _wished_ someone would look at her like that.

During college she'd been alone the majority of the time, focusing all of her energy on studying in effort to become a good teacher – elementary, of course. She graduated with honors, while her friends graduated with fiancés. Moving back to Retroville, she replaced Ms. Fowl upon her retirement, purchasing a small home near the school in effort to save gas money. She was content with her life. But lonely.

With a sigh, she picked up the envelope, carefully opening it. Inside was a crème colored embossed card_:_

"_You are cordially invited to the blessed union of:_

_James Isaac Neutron_

_And_

_Cynthia Aurora Vortex_

_On the date of November 15, in the year Two-Thousand Fifteen_

_RSVP by . . ."_

Betty smiled sadly, knowing that it would have happened sooner or later. Along with the RSVP card tucked neatly inside, there was a small piece of folded paper. Her name was written on it in pencil. She opened it carefully.

_Betty_, it read,

_I never really did express my gratitude to you for 'giving' me Jimmy. _

_I know this happened when we were all in elementary school, but this act of generosity has been on my mind recently. I may have seemed like an ungrateful, loud, brash – well, I was actually like that as a girl. _

_I was insanely jealous of you, even if I wouldn't admit why. My pride wouldn't have taken the blow well, and having to compete with you made things incredibly difficult for me. To me, you seemed like you were everything in a girl that Jimmy could want; you had qualities that I could never have, even if I tried. You were always sweet, kind, offering support whereas all I could do was be sarcastic and offer criticism that was not always constructive. You were gorgeous where I was merely pretty. How could I compete with that? _

_After you backed away, and I gave Jimmy a few shoves in the right direction, I had my chance. So, thank you. I'm happy. We're happy. He loves me -- smart mouth and all. One day you'll probably find a little brunette child with bright green eyes sitting in the front row of you classroom (S)he'll be intellegent, I'm sure, with an attitude and a smart mouth to match. _

_For giving me my life, Betty, I truly am grateful. _

_I hope you are able to attend our wedding. And I would be honored if you would be one of my bride's maids. _

_Respectfully,  
__Cindy_

Betty dropped the note on her table, with a bubble of pride and satisfaction expanding within her. She had done something right all those years ago . . . But, now . . . the bubble burst. She felt she had missed her chance more than ever before.

Sitting at her kitchen table, after checking the 'Attending' box on the RSVP card, Betty Quinlin hung her head and cried.


	6. Perfection

_Loriot: I will try to make the next one happier, I promise! Just my week hasn't been going exactly as I'd expected, so this is the result. Poor Cindy, we writers like to pick on her in this manner. It's such a great plot device. Meh, forgive my clichedness. Starts with Cindy, ends with Jimmy (though I'm not sure if I like how it left off, let me know!). I hope you like it. I totally ripped off the Nano-bot bit. Hehe, I like the 'opposed parents' idea. Adds drama. This is a bit longer than the previous ones._

Perfection

Cindy gazed at herself in the window's faint reflection, hand hovering above the doorbell of Jimmy's house. The reflection didn't look like her -- short, layered hair ("_**finally**_ _rid of the hideous mop_"); professionally done make-up ("_make use of your large, green eyes_"); and manicured ("_being over at that __**boy's **__ruins your hands. All those awful chemicals_"). She rang the doorbell.

"_Cindy_, dear, what are you doing here?" Mrs. Neutron answered.

"I know it's late, but could I see Jimmy, please?" Mrs. Neutron hesitated, not exactly thrilled that the Vortex girl had shown up on their porch half past ten at night, but she looked so . . . defeated, that she stepped aside.

"He's in his room. I'm not sure if he's asleep or not."

"Thank you, Mrs. Neutron." Cindy flashed a shadow of a smile in appreciation, walking slowly up the steps which led to Jimmy's room. She doubted he was asleep. No self-respecting high school student would be asleep at this hour. Especially during the summer. When she tapped on the door, Jimmy yelled for her to come in.

Cindy opened the door slowly, noting that Jimmy was at his desk tinkering with something. She quietly shut the door behind her, leaning against the door frame.

"Mom, if this is about -- Cindy?" Jimmy's eyes grew wide, and he removed the science goggles he was wearing. Cindy grinned. His hair was a complete mess, his once neat jeans and white button down top rumpled.

"Hey, Jimmy," she said softly. "I'm sorry for coming over so late. Libby's not home, and I had no one else. . .I just had to get away from the madness."

"You look . . . different." Jimmy cocked his head to the side, slightly bewildered. "Your hair . . ."

"My lovely _mother _had the hair dresser hack it all off." Cindy crossed the room, sitting lightly on the edge of his bed. Jimmy made a jerking motion, as if he'd wanted to move towards her, but thought better of it. He sighed.

"But . . . your hair looked fine before. I mean, it looks nice on you now, too, _really _nice," he faded out faintly, watching her. Cindy's eyes were downcast, the new haircut framing her face in a very attractive, almost alluring, manner. Jimmy shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

Abruptly Cindy began to speak once again, "She also bought me an unnecessary amount of clothing, had my nails and make-up done, neither of which I needed or wanted." Cindy carelessly rubbed her eyes, smudging the artfully applied eyeliner. "I'm so angry I could . . . well, I'm not sure what I'd do. I just feel like hitting something."

"As long as you aren't implying me, by all means," Jimmy teased gently.

"Funny, Neutron," Cindy looked up at him. Her eyes were tired, red-rimmed from tears she'd been fighting to keep at bay. Jimmy's stomach tightened. "But no, I wasn't."

"Why was she doing this, if you didn't want it?" Jimmy asked quietly.

"Trying to undo what I've done to disappoint her, I suppose." Cindy snorted, flopping back onto Jimmy's bed. She stared at the ceiling. "She gave me the 'pep' talk of the century while we were getting our nails done. Apparently I'm a disappointment to my parents, due to the company I keep, how I present myself, and my standing at school."

Wisely, Jimmy said nothing as she paused, thinking, eyes scrunched closed. He stood, carefully situating himself beside Cindy, leaving a good six inches or so between them. He watched her, frown deepening as a tear trailed down the side of her face, mixing with her hair.

"I'm not good enough for them. They're expecting perfection, so my best isn't good enough. They think I'm slacking, spending too much time with Libby, with you. My grades aren't high enough to please them, and, according to my mother, I dress like trash." Unconsciously Cindy crossed her arms over herself. "I don't think I dress like trash."

"You don't. I like the way you dress."

A smile tugged on the corners of Cindy's mouth. "Thanks, Neutron."

"Why does your mother think your grades aren't good enough? Don't you have a 4.0? I know it's only second to mine in class rank – a close second at that."

"I'm not in first, that's why."

"That's not fair to you, though. Competing with a genius for a high grade is not exactly easy."

"Really humble, aren't you?"

"Sorry. I only meant that I'm a challenge that many would not willingly face."

"No, you're right. Competing with a genius for a top grade is futile." She sighed. "Maybe I should just give up, slack like she thinks I am. Then she'll be able to see what a failure really is."

"Hey," Jimmy said sharply. He rolled onto his side so he could see her better. "You had better not do that. You may be challenged by me, but you challenge me, too. I could get easy A's with one arm tied behind my back, but to get an exceptional A, I need to try to surpass your work. You're smarter than you think, much smarter than your parents give you credit for."

Cindy opened her eyes, meeting Jimmy's. She placed a hand gently on his forearm. "Thanks, Jimmy."

"I'm serious."

"_I'm_ grateful."

They laid in silence for a long time. Jimmy propped up on his elbow, Cindy's hand still resting on his arm. Her body was tensed slightly. Jimmy heard his parents pacing downstairs, obviously warily listening for any 'activity' they may have to interrupt. He almost laughed.

"Hey, Cindy," Jimmy finally said, softly. He gently placed a hand against her neck, thumb resting on her jaw line. She looked up at him, confused.

"Humans are flawed; that's what makes them perfect. You, Cynthia Aurora Vortex, are _perfect_. You're beautiful, despite your slightly overlapping front teeth and the chicken pox scars on your arm. You're intelligent, despite the fact that you needed a tutor in Advanced Trig. Your flaws _are_ your perfection, Cindy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Cindy's breath hitched; she tightened her grip on Jimmy's arm. "Thank you," she breathed. Jimmy nodded, placing his forehead against Cindy's. She shifted, lessening the gap between their bodies. "Jimmy –" There was a sharp rap on the door, which was pointedly trying to get their attention. "I-I should go." Cindy untangled herself from Jimmy's grasp. He remained on the bed, watching her with tired eyes. She kissed his temple lightly. "Good night."

Cindy opened the door. Mrs. Neutron was standing there with a strained smile as she bid Cindy a good night. Once she had let herself out of the house, Mrs. Neutron sighed. "Jimmy, I just don't know what you see in that girl. You're only fifteen, you know."

"Mom, we aren't dating or anything." Jimmy rolled onto his back, gazing at the upside down figure of his mother. "We're just friends."

"I don't know, Jimmy."

"Trust me, I'm a _genius_."

"You're still a teenage _boy_."

"She's exactly who I need."

"You need a loud-mouthed, sarcastic, controlling, angry girl?"

Jimmy gave a half smile, dipping his head, "She's perfect."


	7. Questions

Loriot: Alright, guys, this is my last one for a bit. I'm going away for a week or so – family vacation. I apologize for the poor quality (this is **completely** unedited), but I'm pretty tired. My work schedule was completely shifted (new job, really), and now I'm not getting very much sleep. I hope you guys enjoy this, despite grammar, etc. I liked the 'innocent touch' of the last story, so I hoped the capture that again. Now, I want to go to bed. It's nearly 11, and I get up at 6. I'll hopefully fix this one day.

**Questions**

The bus was dim, quiet, except for the snores of some sleeping students. The entirety of the freshmen English classes had gone on a long field trip to see two Shakespearean plays – _As You Like It_ and _A Midsummer's Night Dream_. The bus trip itself was nearly three hours long. Though it was nearly seven in the evening, they still had an hour to drive. After the initial leg of the trip, the students became sleepy, most opting to take a nap before getting home to work on homework that had been assigned to them before leaving. Jimmy and Cindy were sitting in the back seat. Cindy had one leg curled under her, the other dangling off the seat as she faced Jimmy. He was turned toward her slightly, his knee pulled up on the empty space between them. In the seat before the, both Sheen and Libby were sound asleep. Outside the window, twilight glimmered peacefully.

Cindy sighed. She and Jimmy were the only two left awake on the bus. She had been reading; Jimmy had been working on some blueprint, but now it was too dark to consider straining her eyes. Looking up, she noticed that Jimmy was watching her. Or appeared to be. She glanced away shyly. A few more minutes passed. She gently nudged his knee with her own.

"Want to play a game?" she asked quietly.

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

"I dunno. Twenty Questions?"

Jimmy looked thoughtful. "Am I a person?"

"Hey! You're supposed to give me a minute to think of something."

"Fine."

The pair settled into a peaceful silence as Cindy thought. By the time she decided on the answer, she was feeling very placid. "Alright. Yes, I am a person."

Jimmy shifted, draping his arm along the top of the seat. "'Am I male?"

"Yes."

"Am I elderly?

Cindy snorted. "No."

"Hmm. Am I fictitious?"

"Yes." Jimmy paused to consider his next question. Sleepily, Cindy draped her arm along the top of the seat, her hand resting millimeters away from Jimmy's.

"Am I within a specific genre?"

Cindy frowned, contemplating her answer. ". . . Yes."

"Action/Adventure?"

"No."

Jimmy wrinkled his nose. "Romance?"

Cindy laughed quietly, shifting forward, hand brushing against Jimmy's. "No." Lightly, almost tenderly, Jimmy's finger tips brushed hers. She responded unconscientiously, fingers closing slightly over his, her rough karate-induced calluses brushing roughly against his lab-smooth hands.

"Mystery?" Jimmy asked quietly. The world was quiet; the hum of the bus had faded into the background. The pair was solely concentrating on the soft touch of the other.

"Yes." And the game, of course.

"Am I well known?" Shifting in her seat, Cindy saw rather than felt their hands fall, hitting the seat with a muffled thwap. As she answered she softly traced swirled across Jimmy's palm.

"Yes." Jimmy's voice was growing softer, a frown in place as he thought. His hand suddenly closed around Cindy's, their fingers intertwining.

"Am I in a series?" The bus sped over pot hole, sending them jolting in the air. Jimmy held out his free hand to steady her.

"Yes." Cindy was breathless, hypersensitive to the fact jimmy's hand was now resting low on her waist, disappointed enough to cry when he slowly released her.

"Am I old enough to drive?" Jimmy was watching Cindy intently, fixated on the way her eyes shone, even in the dim light. He was distinctly reminded on one evening years ago before their trip to Mars. What had ever happened to that perfume?

"Yes."

"To drink?" Cindy's gaze dropped as she became shy once again under his gaze. She pulled his hand into her lap,

"No."

"Am I aspiring to follow in someone's footsteps?"

"Yes." Cindy glanced up Jimmy, tightening her grip, marveling how much larger his hand was compared to hers. Jimmy rubbed the back of Cindy's hand gently with his thumb.

"Is that person a relative?"

"Yes."

"Am I romantically involved?" Upon the word 'romantic,' Cindy looked up. Jimmy was once again deep in thought. His eyes fixated on a spot above her.

"No." There was a brief pause before his next question.

"Did I meet another literary character?"

"Yes."

"Is there more than one of me?" Cindy almost laughed at this. He had it.

"Yes."

"Am I the Hardy Boys?"

"Yes." Cindy dipped her head in conformation, pleased he was able to get to the answer.

The pair sat quietly for a minute, eyes downcast.

"Is this . . .?" Jimmy began softly, adding a bit of pressure to Cindy's hand.

"It's fine," Cindy murmured, barely loud enough to hear. Jimmy visibly relaxed.

"My turn?"

"Sure, Neutron, if you so desire." Cindy teased gently, shifting so she could sit closer to the blue-eyed genius. "Am I a person?"

"Yes."

"Am I male?"

"No." Cindy smirked.

"Marie Curie," she said simply. Jimmy's jaw dropped slightly in surprise.

"How did you—"

"Neutron, you aren't that hard to figure out."


	8. Translation

_Loriot: I'm back! Did you miss me? . . . Here's my 'good to be back' ficlet for you. I intially intended on sticking some Spanish in there, but then I remembered: "I took French in high school, not Spanish. Loriot, you are so scatterbrained." Anywho, I left it without the Spanish. I hope you like my version of teenaged Sheen and Libby. I have a small request for those who review -- tell me what you think of Sheen and Libby, and how they work as a couple. It would be most appreciated. Enjoy!_

**Translation**

Libby sighed, placing the textbook down on her bed as she rubbed her tired eyes. The clock read '8:02' in the evening. She quietly munched on a peanut butter cracker as she once again skimmed the conversation pointers in the Spanish text resting in front of her. Three hours – _three_ _hours_ – of studying the romance language and Libby felt like she had gotten nowhere. She'd aced high school Spanish . . . or at least Spanish I and II during her sophomore year, but what little she had known felt like it had dissipated.

Libby groaned, rolling onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, watching the music notes she'd painted as they wove throughout ribbon. There was a sharp knock on her door.

"Come in," she called.

"Hey, Babe!" Sheen, ever enthusiastic, cried upon entering. She grinned, waiting quietly as he flopped down on the bed next to her. She turned her head expecting his usual greeting – a kiss – but was met with a frown instead.

"What's this?" Sheen reached behind him, pulling the textbook out from under his head. "Geez, Libs, its summer. Why do you have a _book_?" Sheen's expression was so incredibly disgusted that Libby had to laugh.

"I'm _reading_. Is that such a big deal?"

"You're reading a Spanish _textbook_?"

"Well, studying it really."

"Why? It's summer! Time to kick back, relax, and put on that sexy little bikini you bought when you dragged me to the mall last week." Sheen wiggled his non-existent eyebrows. Libby snickered, and smacked his stomach.

"_That_ was a birthday gift for Cindy."

"Damn. Jimmy gets all the luck." Sheen grumbled. Libby laughed, curling against Sheen.

"I seem to recall you liking my bathing suit last year just _fine_." Libby shook her head, grumbling slightly, "Bikini my ass. I'm not as comfortable as Cindy about flaunting myself in something like that in public."

"Who said it had to be in public?" Libby smacked Sheen in the stomach again. "Hey! That was a totally innocent suggestion!"

"Right. And I'm the queen of Sheba."

"You're _related_ to a queen."

"That is beside the point."

"And I'm gonna bruise if you keep hitting me like that."

"Can't take a little abuse, eh, tough guy?" Libby jabbed Sheen in the side. Sheen made a face.

"Seriously, though, why do you have a text book?"

"If you must know, it's because your grandmother's coming to visit."

"So?"

"So," Libby responded, drawing out the vowel sound, "you said she only speaks Spanish."

"So?"

"_So,_ when I come to visit, it'd be nice to be able to actually say something to her."

"Why would you want to do that? Gran's pretty boring. She sits and knits and talks about what vegetables are in season, or how her feet are feeling." Sheen made a face.

"She's your family, Sheen. You've been forced to come in contact with my multitude of family members at the reunion—"

"I wasn't _forced_, Babe, I volunteered. Your uncle Jeremy is _cool_. Remember the pie eating contest? That dude's a bottomless pit!" Libby rolled her eyes.

"How could I forget?" Libby sighed. "I just want to return the favor, Sheen." Sheen rolled onto his side, draping an arm over Libby's waist.

"You don't have to, Libs," he murmured.

"I want to, Sheen," Libby replied quietly. Reaching up she touched his cheek gently. "Your grandmother's an important person to your family, to _you_. You'd said as much when we were talking the other day. I'd like to get to know her."

"I can translate for you."

"I know."

". . . Do you want me to?"

"No. At least not _initially_. I'd like to talk to her myself."

"Libs—"

"No, Sheen, I'm going to do this. When I come to visit tomorrow, I want to be able to tell her about how much I care about her grandson myself. Some things easily get lost in translation." Sheen smiled at her gently, leaning down to tenderly kiss her.

"I doubt _that_ will get lost in translation, Libs."


	9. Ordinary

_Loriot: This is going to be my last post in quite sometime, as far as I can tell. I'm leaving for school today, which means little to no free time for weeks on end. I apologize, but promise I will **try** to keep updating as possible. Here's a new sorta ficlet for you. I hope you like it. This one leaves room for a "sequal" of sorts ... you'll see what I mean when you read it. Enjoy! I just hope my one line isn't out of line, so to speak ... this is set during their high school years, so I wouldn't think ..._

Ordinary

Nick Dean was good looking.

And he knew it.

The girls (and a few guys) at school had quite a variation of words which they described him with: Handsome. Attractive. Fine. Hott. Sexy.

_God-like_.

His Hispanic heritage served him well – dark hair _(black, thick, and smooth. Kept just long enough to run fingers through)_; a deep complexion _(a natural tan that others pay through the nose for)_; muscles _(well-developed and no "flab" to speak of)_; deep eyes _(chocolate-colored and framed with rather feminine lashes)_.

He was _the_ guy at school. He was the one that every guy envy and despised. He was the one that every girl wanted to date

Yet somehow Nick remained perpetually single.

It's not that he _didn't_ date. He definitely dated. In the loosest sense of the word – he spent time with girls. He definately spent time with girls. Restaurants. Movies. "Quality time."

_(To be striped of one's virginity by Nick Dean was an honor after all.)_

Most people at school had been under the impression that he would end up with either Betty Quinlin or the Vortex girl. Betty? They'd gone out twice. Once? She was too sugary for his taste. And Vortex? Neutron had claimed the sharp-tongued blonde years ago. Not even Nick was willing to attempt to sweep the genius' girl off her feet.

Threatening a guy who had a possible weapon arsenal stashed at home was never in the best interest on one's health.

But Nick was never exclusive. He'd never wanted to be.

Then _she_ moved to town.

She was possibly the plainest person Nick had ever come in contact with. Her hair was neither blond nor brunette; neither straight nor curly. Her eyes were neither brown nor green nor murky gray. Even her name was plain: Patricia Foster. But she went by Patsy.

Patsy.

There wasn't anything special about her. No outstanding talent (average grades, decent violin player, not much else). No outstanding feature (worse yet, she'd _pudge_. Pudgy legs, pudgy arms, pudgy stomach. Even a pudgy _chest_! Not _perky_, but _pudgy_.). No outstanding story (parents married, one kid brother).

She was painfully ordinary.

But, as with every new girl that moved to town, Nick felt compelled to ask her out for a date.

_A_ date.

He followed the same method he'd been using for years. He walked up to Patsy, leaning against the locker next to hers. Nick flashed a flirty smile when she glanced up at him. Patsy'd paused, inspecting him with her (critical) hazel gaze. Taking this as the usual admiration, Nick leaned closer to her, voice husky.

"How about you and I catch a movie Saturday evening? I hear that new thriller movie's pretty good." Patsy frowned.

"Thanks, but no." She simply turned back to her locker and continued to swap books from her bag to her locker and back again. Nick stared at her wordlessly in shock, his mouth hanging open.

Had he just been turned down?

No. No, that wasn't possible! He was Nick Dean.

Nick Dean!

"Erm . . . maybe you didn't understand my question –"

"Oh, no, I understood just fine. I'm just not interested." Slamming her locker shut, Patsy gave a slight shrug before walking away. "Have a nice weekend."

As she walked away, Nick stared, hyperaware that others around him were doing the same thing. He'd been shot down. In _public_. He swore obscenely under his breath as he kicked the nearby locker. If it was the last thing he did, he would get that . . . that _girl_ to go out with him.

She became his obsession. Weeks in and out, he pressed her each day, completely forgetting there was an entire school full of other available girls. Many much prettier. Many more extraordinary. Many _easier _(in more than one sense of the word).

He watched her, trying to figure out what interested her, what sort of arguments she gave into. He was determined to get her to agree. Just _once_. The more he watched her, though, the more he grew to know who she was. He was utterly surprised to find out that she wasn't as plain as he first thought she was. Sure, she still had the color-confused hair and the murky eyes, but her lips, _sweet gods_, her _lips_ were fantastic. Full, soft-looking, and glossy, as she always carried a tube of chap-stick in her jean pocket. She wasn't academically minded nor was she a fantastic violinist, but she could sing. An Alto and siren-like, she swept the audience at the talent show away.

She had a relatively even temperament, but was completely frank, and was willing to give anyone a kick in the arse if they needed it.

It certainly seemed as if she believed Nick needed one.

She continued to turn him down. Always polite about it, making a speedy exit so he couldn't question her afterwards. She became fast friends with Cindy Vortex who declared one day that she like her "spunk." She was fitting in perfectly.

And Nick was slowly going insane.

_Why wouldn't she say yes?_

It was so _frustrating_! He was so used to getting his way.

One afternoon, he cornered her. It was after school, after all of the other activities had ended. Nick found her exiting the auditorium, a nearly empty water bottle grasped tightly in her hand.

_She's been practicing_, Nick thought absently as he approached her. At the sound of his footsteps, Patsy paused, turning her full attention to the young man swiftly approaching her. A frown set in place, she crossed her arms, shifting all of her weight onto one foot. Her eyes widened in slight surprise as he gripped her shoulders. Not painfully, but certainly tightly.

"Why?" he asked, voice quiet in desperation.

"Why what?" she questioned him back, unsure what point he was trying to make.

"Why are you being so difficult!? Any other girl in school would _pay_ to be asked out by me on a regular basis. Why do you keep saying no?" Patsy bit her lip, trying not to laugh. In her eyes, the situation was comical, though she could see that Nick wouldn't take kindly to being laughed at during this particular moment.

"I would have thought that was obvious, actually."

"Obvious."

"Yes."

". . . It's _not_, though." He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"You know," she said simply.

"Know _what_?"

Patsy frowned, annoyed.

"You _know_ that you're good looking. That girls fall over their own feet, just to get a glimpse of you. You believe that you can date anyone because of who you are in this school. Though undoubtedly many of the girls in this school that have gone out with you are bimbos, there are some, believe it or not, that have feelings. One date before moving on, Nick? That's just . . . incredibly _heartless_. I have no desire to ever consider dating a guy like that." Patsy paused, considering. "Besides, someone needs to knock that ego of yours down a peg or two. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm sure that my ride is waiting."

Once again Nick was left to watch her retreating back(side), more frustrated than ever. He was still determined to win her, even if just for a night.

He'd just have to change tactics.


	10. Comfort

_Loriot (Take two): Well, I'm still here! The past month or so has been hellishly busy, and I doubt it'll get any better until semester break. (Ah, the life of a college student). I will keep trying though. This bit . . . I'm not sure if I like it, though I have decided to keep it as is. I do hope you like it. Also . . . any thoughts from my fabulous readers as to what they would like to see from me in the future? Just out of curiosity ... More JC or more SL, particular themes, would you like Patsy to make a comeback, that sort of thing. I'm not guarenteeing that I'll get to them, I'm just curious. :D_

**Comfort**

Cindy quietly descended the flight of stairs which led to Jimmy's lab. Getting in had been easy enough – she had simply plucked a strand of his hair from the brush in his bedroom. Those two bozos that Jimmy called friends came in handy at times, as much as she hated to admit it.

Cindy pressed the button on the wall near the first door. It slid open, air rushing past her. Tucking a strand of lose hair behind her ear, she advanced across the raised walkway, all of the machinery below, usually so animated and busy, sat silently. The only sound was the gentle _clacking_ of Cindy's low heels.

Upon reaching the second set of doors, she paused, hand hovering centimeters above the button, glowing red in the dimly lit room. She sighed heavily, leaning her forehead against the cool metal door. Cindy had never felt more uncertain in her life. To be perfectly honest, she was afraid. What if she said something wrong? What if she made everything _worse_? _What if_ . . . But, then again, she couldn't just _ignore_ this. It would be hideously cruel of her to do so. Cindy lifted her head, heaved a sigh, and pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

Cindy swore under her breath. Of course he'd lock himself in there! Scowling, she pounded on the door. "Open up, Neutron!" _Silence_. "Come _on_, Jimmy! I know you can hear me! I just want to talk to you!" Cindy stepped back, staring sadly at the unmoving door. She took a deep breath, chin trembling slightly. "Jimmy . . . _Please_." _Still_ _nothing_. Hanging her head, Cindy ran a hand through her hair.

Now what?

She didn't know.

Turning on her heel, she started to walk back across the walkway. Behind her, she felt a rush of air; heard the quiet scraping of metal. Eyes wide, she turned around.

The door was open.

She carefully stepped through the threshold into Jimmy's small workshop. Goddard was sitting near the door, wagging his tail, obviously glad to see Cindy. She smiled sadly and petted the robotic dog before continuing on her way. She eventually spotted Jimmy at a small workbench, armed with a soldering iron and a small mechanical . . . well, she wasn't sure what it was.

Shaking her head, Cindy approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Jimmy, what are you doing?"

"Trying to get this damned thing to work," he replied, voice tight.

"Jimmy, you shouldn't be doing that. Not now." Cindy gently took the soldering iron from him, placing it back on its stand. Jimmy scowled, pushing his chair back from the workbench.

"What do you propose I do, then, if you think you know what's best for me, Vortex?" Jimmy snapped, voice scathing. Cindy narrowed her eyes, not meeting his gaze as she set to work unplugging the iron and setting it at the far end of the bench.

"Just take a day off, Jimmy. Go home, go see your family." She turned to face him, leaning lightly against the desk, the sheer black fabric of her dress catching on the sharp corner.

"There's no point in that."

"No _point_? Jimmy . . . how could you say that?" Jimmy crossed his arms, avoiding her disappointed expression.

"Go _away_, Cindy, I'm busy." Cindy gaped, momentarily wordless in her anger.

"_Busy_ . . . Jimmy, your _grandmother_ just passed away. I-I don't understand how you can just _sit_ down here and tinker with your toys while your parents are upstairs not only hosting the . . .the reception, and . . . and _Jimmy_, you're not the only one upset by your grandmother's death! Your father lost his _mother_! You ought –"

"_Cindy_! Cindy, just stop! . . . _**stop**_!"

Cindy froze, hastily wiping the angry tears from her face. Jimmy dropped his head to his hands. Then . . . nothing. The silence was deafening. Cindy scarcely dared to breathe as she watched him. She stood there, mouth open slightly, as she noticed his shoulders begin to shake, ever so slightly at first.

"Jimmy . . ." Cindy took a step forward, holding out a hand towards him.

"I . . . I c-couldn't s-s-save her . . . I couldn't do a-_anything_ . . ." Jimmy's voice, broken and quiet, came, his breathing hitched as he took a breath.

"Oh, _Jimmy_," Cindy stepped forward, placing her hands gently on Jimmy's shoulders. He reached out, winding his arms tightly around her waist, his already tear-wet face, soaking the front of her dress. "There was no way anything could have been done. She was sick. Really sick."

"I'm a _genius_; I should have been able to do something, _anything_." Cindy gently rocked him back and forth, running her fingers gently through his hair. "And . . . I just _can't_ go face my family, not just yet."

"Jimmy . . . nothing could have prevented her from dying, your family knows this. Death is really the only thing guaranteed in our lives, and your grandmother was no exception to this. Genius doesn't matter in the end. I know that it hurts, but it's _not_ something we can change." Cindy paused, tears slowly dripping from her chin. She pulled away from Jimmy, and smiled at him sadly, carefully wiping tears from his face. "I'm sorry."

"Cindy . . ." Cindy dipped down, swiftly, softly kissing Jimmy. As she began to pull away, Jimmy pressed insistently back, his hands pulling her closer, dropping lower. Cindy gasped, knotting her hands in Jimmy's hair. And they simply . . . kissed – carefully, shyly. Jimmy pulled away first, red rimmed eyes smiling up at Cindy.

"Cindy."

"Jimmy," she murmured, smiling back. Jimmy reached up, wiping a stray tear from her jaw. He laughed quietly, smiling . . . though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He sighed, resting his head on her chest once more, arms hold her securely. Cindy followed the suit, resting her chin atop his head, letting the now peaceful silence engulf them, waiting silently as Jimmy slowly relaxed, holding him tighter when tears threatened again, murmuring any and all comfort she could offer.

"That was rather emasculating," he murmured eventually, sighing. Cindy jarred out of her dream-like state abruptly, frowning at his statement.

"There's no shame in crying, Neutron," Cindy replied, giving him a light smack on the back of his head. Sighing, she rested her forehead against his. ". . . You okay?" she asked after a moment. Jimmy met Cindy's analytical gaze unwaveringly.

"Yeah, I suppose, better than earlier, at least," Jimmy responded. "Thank you."

Cindy kissed him softly, "Anytime." Jimmy sighed, pulling Cindy closer to him once more.

"I suppose I should go upstairs . . . socialize with the relatives," Jimmy growled softly. "Though . . . to be honest, I'd rather stay here with you."

"Sweet talking will get you nowhere." Cindy nudged him with her knee. "You're only saying that to get out of going upstairs."

"Perhaps," Jimmy frowned, releasing her slowly.

"Come on, Neutron," Cindy stepped back, and held out her hand. "It won't be so terrible; I'll be with you."


	11. Obsession

_**Loriot:** Alright ... I admit I have been horrible about writing. I place the blame entirely on school. In this next week and a half, I have three papers and an exam, plus tons of reading which I should probably be doing now. But I felt bad ... and I wanted to post you guys something. It's not up to my usual, mainly pointless dribble, as it was hurried, so I do apologize. Eh ... hopefully the next update will be sooner._

**Obsession**

Libby slowly trailed her fingers along her boyfriend's back, alternating writing her name and simply tracing swirling designs. He was asleep on her bed, arms folded, on his stomach, a biology book open in front of him. Libby was sitting beside him, her legs tucked under her. She yawned, picking at the blue fabric of his shirt. Sleepy. That's how she felt. Either it was just the feeling of a Sunday afternoon, or had something to do with the dismal weather.

Jimmy and Cindy were over at the Neutrons, working on homework just as Sheen and Libby had planned to do. At least for those two, homework would get done, under the ever watchful eye of Mrs. Neutron. Libby and Sheen, on the other hand, were easily distracted. At least _Sheen_ was. Between the ADHD and Sheen's innately exuberant personality, he became exited over the tiniest little things. The small trinkets on Libby's vanity, the new top she'd bought the other day, the fact the flowers he had given her on their anniversary were resting on her bedside table . . .

They _had_ planned on studying for both the Biology exam the next day as well as working on whatever vocabulary they had to know for their English quiz. Instead Sheen had fallen asleep fifteen minutes into their review, leaving Libby alone and feeling drowsy herself. Resting against Sheen, she'd watched him sleep momentarily. For once in his life he didn't look excited, perplexed, or, well, a tad insane . . . he looked _peaceful_.

Libby smiled, rubbing his arm gently, "I'm not gonna do well on that test tomorrow and I _will_ blame you without hesitation." At the sound of Libby's voice, Sheen began to stir. Libby had forgotten how light of a sleeper he was. "It ought to be a crime to look so cute –"

"I'd prefer 'manly' or 'ruggedly handsome,'" Sheen's voice came, quietly, tiredly. He yawned. "If you don't mind, Libs."

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Libby murmured, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Sheen had other ideas.

Grabbing her around the waist, Sheen pulled Libby next to him, rolling back on his side so that they could lie face to face. He kissed her softly before closing his eyes once again, arm tightly looped around her waist. Libby blinked, surprised. They were so _close_ . . . forehead to forehead, nose to nose, chest to chest. Probably the closest they had ever been to each other within six months of dating.

Libby looked at him quizzically.

His eyes were closed, breathing deep and even once again. Libby's mouth was parted slightly in wonder. He hadn't tried a thing. Last time she had, unfortunately, been in this situation her ex (who shall remain nameless) had gotten a bit too friendly for her liking. Needless to say, the relationship had ended soon. But Sheen . . . his hands were in place, he was close, but not invasive. He was . . . sweet.

Libby wasn't sure why she was so shocked. She knew Sheen, possibly better than she knew her other friends. As crazy as he acted at times, he was a wonderful person. He cared for his friends deeply, was always supporting them. He loved his family, trying so hard to be optimistic after his mother died. And he never pressured her. _Never_. For a teenaged guy he showed an uncharacteristic amount of self-control. Libby knew he was attracted to her, he left no room for doubt there, but he was always . . . G-rated, for lack of a better explanation. Sweet kisses, hugs, _nuzzling_ (which was Libby's favorite, to be honest) . . . anything that her mother would deem acceptable of a fifteen year old girl, nothing more.

Libby touched his cheek gently, smiling contently. He blinked open his eyes, watching her bleary eyed. She smiled at him sweetly, as he closed his eyes once again. "I love you, Sheen," she murmured, almost silently. "You and your sweet, crazy ways. Your attention, your kindness, your kisses . . . your willingness to put up with my music, and even your own obsessions."

"You're one of 'em, Libs," Sheen replied quietly.

Libby smiled, closing her eyes. Curling up closer to Sheen, she sighed happily.


End file.
